Rebecca Romijn The Librarians Novels & Stories

she begged and pinched her brows, making a look of helplessness. "Every written word is important, Lorraine. It's rather better to ask for a summary of the book than say 'only the important part of the book', okay?" Herla corrected her. Lorraine remembered her school librarian. This would have been the exact same response they would give to anyone who insinuated there's a part of a book that was less important than another. "Are you a librarian?" Lorraine's eyes followed Herla as she flapped her wings. "Yes. I used to be a librarian."

"Don't worry, Mrs. Romano, we have a library. Would you like to have a look?" My eyes sparkled up with excitement just by hearing the word Library. I love reading fictional books and that is the reason why I am a hopeless romantic girl stuck in his cruel dark world of mafias. I nodded my head vigorously. "Yes, of course!" He led me towards the library room and my jaw dropped. It was an old library designed nothing to match with the aesthetic of the party going downstairs.

And there has to be something, somewhere in the library with answers. The walkway leading up to the library is littered with books and papers. Some of them appear charred, their pages nothing more than fragmented dust held together by the healing air surrounding it. Rebecca whispers something under her breath about this being futile, but I keep pulling us forward. Broken slabs of cement guide us through the entrance. When both of us have cleared the front doors, Rebecca drops my arm and glances behind her. Her bright eyes dance around until she huffs out a breath of relief.

* None felt like potential allies. The library was a vast, echoing chamber, smelling of dust, parchment, and beeswax. Tall windows offered grey light, illuminating towering shelves crammed with leather-bound tomes. A massive oak table dominated the center. An elderly man with a wispy white beard and spectacles perched on his nose looked up from a ledger, surprise registering on his face. “Lady Vivian?” He stood, offering a respectful, if slightly bewildered, bow. Master Fenwick, the castle librarian, according to her borrowed memories. A man who valued his books far more than courtly intrigue. “An unexpected… pleasure. How may I assist you?”

“Remember I told Mrs. Humphrey about the ghost who convinced me to put a rock at the kitchen door to keep it open? The one—” “Oooh. The one with the cat.” He clicks his tongue. “I completely forgot about that. But yeah, hate to break it to you, Hailstorm, that wasn’t very smart of you.” “Thanks for stating the obvious.” I roll my eyes as we round the corner by the library. It is open but vacant today compared to every other day I’ve been here—with the exception of two librarians manning the front desk, chatting animatedly about something. One of them is Dibella.

Taking Grandpa’s warning seriously, I went to the library to take books to complete my notes. As I enter, I notice Rebecca Sinclair holding a pile of book in her hands, with a smugly smile on her face when her gaze falls on me. What is her problem? Every chic in this school wants to be with me but her, she is a pain in ass, just like her grades. She tops in academics’ every year and she knows that she is winning this already! “hey! Ashford! What’s up?” Oliver, my best friend taps on my shoulder, “she is not your type, dude!” she points when he notices I was glaring at Rebecca.

A slow smile lights up her face and she nods, preening lightly, “Well, I was going to say congratulations, on the Moon Jubilee. It was spectacular, and there’s really no other word for it.” I smile indulgently, “Thank you very much. I’m glad everyone enjoyed it.” She nods and looks away, this time with a slight blush coloring her cheeks, “I also wanted to ask if I could help you with what you’re looking for. Is it a work of fiction or some bit of pack history? I’m the assistant librarian, and we barely get anyone in the library lately, except for the random few of course.” I heave a breath of relief when I hear that because hells, I was starting to get a little bit frustrated.

Inside, the shelves were lined with ancient tomes and scrolls, and the air was thick with the musty scent of old books. "Excuse me," Hannah said to the librarian. "We're looking for information about a woman named Marcelyn. She may have some connection to recent attacks on our village." The librarian looked up from her desk, studying them with her piercing gaze. "Marcelyn, you say? That name is not known to me. But if there is any information to be found, it will be in the restricted section." "The restricted section?" Rajan repeated, his eyebrows raised. "What's in there?"

Their commitment to these values was not only a personal vow but a solemn promise to their people, who had come to cherish and rely on their benevolent rule. The Library of Wisdom had grown in stature, drawing scholars, thinkers, and philosophers from across the known world. It had become a hub of intellectual exchange and innovation, where the pursuit of knowledge was a revered endeavor. Roberick and Cynthia, known for their love of learning, often spent time in the library, engaging with scholars and delving into the wealth of wisdom it contained.

The lift carried me to the fourth floor. I walked the corridors with deliberate purpose, keeping my head down. Through swing doors, I caught glimpses of the newsroom—desks cluttered with paper, phones ringing, voices overlapping. Every so often, my leg stiffened, locking momentarily before swinging forward again, as though braced in a splint. The librarian was in her sixties, with dyed hair and half-moon glasses hanging from a chain around her neck. A rubber thimble covered her thumb, used for turning pages. Her desk was surrounded by an unlikely collection of cacti.